


Stay Like This Tonight

by Liralen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liralen/pseuds/Liralen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was quiet for a long moment, just staring at his tea. Eventually he said, in a soft voice, "I can't remember the last time I sucked off a bloke just for fun. Without being paid."</p><p>"Really?" Liam asked, shocked.</p><p>"I can't even remember the last time someone sucked <em>me</em> off without paying me," Harry continued.</p><p>Liam set his mug down on the coffee table, perhaps too loudly, because Harry glanced up. "Harry," Liam said seriously, "I'd really like to blow you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Like This Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearecities (falsetto)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsetto/gifts).



> i promised wearecities that i'd write her lirry blowjob fic if she finished a paper. i _intended_ to write short, silly, porny fic. this is 2.5k of rentboys!lirry. *hands*

The rain had been pissing down in steady sheets all night, driving everyone inside before they even took a first glance at the two boys leant back on the wall outside the club, carefully arranged to look open and available while still trying to keep warm and dry under the overhang. When midnight had come and gone without a single bite, they'd reluctantly shelled out £10 each for entry to the club, where they'd fared a little better. It was always a gamble, investing what little money they had for a chance to make more, but Liam had earned it back in the first 20 minutes inside, and by the time he'd seen to his third customer he had £120 in his pocket and a few drinks in his stomach, and the tight feeling in his chest was beginning to ease.  
  
He waited a few moments to make sure the other bloke had left before coming out of the stall, washing his hands carefully, ritualistically, then bringing cupped handfuls of water up to rinse out his mouth. The loo was packed and men were jostling and pushing all around him, some of them halfway to getting off right next to him, but Liam didn't hurry. He shook the water from his hands, ran his damp fingers through his fringe, slicking it back into an approximation of the quiff he'd begun the night with, before other hands had grabbed and pulled and left it in tangles.  
  
He looked into the mirror, checking his face. He looked tired around the eyes, but he also looked flushed, his mouth slightly swollen, and he had enough in his pocket to pay his half of the week's rent. He made himself smile. Then he went to find Harry.  
  
They'd split up as soon as they'd come in, with the usual proviso to meet up at the bar at 2 AM, or within 15 minutes of it. Liam flipped open his phone to check the time; he was a few minutes late. He looked up and down the crowd packed around the bar for Harry's shaggy head, and, not finding it, decided to waste £5 on a drink while he waited.  
  
Liam sipped his drink slowly, despite the well liquor and the sharp aftertaste it left behind, just to fill the minutes and quiet the restless feeling growing in his stomach. When he checked his phone next and saw that he had passed 2:20 without a glimpse of Harry, he let himself worry, just a little. By 2:30 he was nearly vibrating and about to search for him, forget the agreement, when he felt a hand on his waist, quickly slipping around to palm his stomach, and his whole body eased at the familiar touch.  
  
"You're late," he scolded, leaning back into Harry.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry." The hand on his stomach rubbed a gentle apology, scritching lightly through his t-shirt. "I was headed over here when I got caught up. I tried to hurry it up, but I didn't have much of an option." Harry's voice was raspy, muffled against the curve between Liam's neck and shoulder, and Liam winced.  
  
"Everything all right?" he asked, or started to, pulling away and turning to look at Harry, but when he caught sight of him the words fizzled in his mouth.  
  
"It's okay," Harry said quickly, trying to smile, though it made the scrapes around his mouth pull and flare red. "Looks worse than it is, promise."  
  
He held his head at a calculated angle to keep the fall of his fringe mostly over one eye. He probably thought Liam hadn't noticed that trick before, but Liam noticed everything about Harry. The skin under his eyes was a little red, like he'd been crying, but Liam didn't think Harry had been crying. By morning he bet there'd be a bruise.  
  
"How much do you have?" Liam asked.  
  
"Two tons, bit less," Harry said.  
  
Liam nodded. "Same," he lied. "Let's call it a night."  
  
It wasn't really a question, but Liam felt a buzz of relief when Harry didn't argue, just led the way.  
  
They caught the bus back to their flat, and Liam tried not to think about how there were only two days left in the month, and then he'd have to shell out for another pass. He tried not to think about how little they'd taken in on what should have been a lucrative Thursday night, or how much more work he'd have to put in tomorrow to make up for it. He put an arm around Harry's shoulders and pressed his nose to Harry's shirt, breathing in the sweaty warm boy smell of him, and didn't think at all.  
  
It was late enough to make his stomach tired by the time they got in, but there was nervous energy still buzzing in Liam's veins, in his fingertips and behind his eyes, and when he put the kettle on Harry took down the mugs and started filling Liam's with sugar. Liam watched him, playing with the empty biscuit tin, prying the edge of the lid up and pressing it back down over and over with a tinny pop.  
  
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.  
  
"I'm fine Liam," Harry said, voice tight with irritation or exhaustion, Liam didn't know. "It's only a few scratches. The damn zipper, you know. Seemed to like rubbing my face against it."  
  
"And your eye?"  
  
Harry looked up, meeting Liam's gaze with such a blank, cold expression that Liam felt a blush rise in his neck. The kettle clicked off and he busied himself filling their mugs so he wouldn't have to look at Harry's face.  
  
"How about you?" Harry asked, in a softer tone, as they settled on the sofa with their tea. "Good night?"  
  
"Just three blow jobs." Liam shrugged, blowing across the top of his tea and still burning his tongue when he took a sip, as usual. "Not too bad. The second one wanted me to spit it back into his mouth. Like, from a distance, actually spit it. People are weird."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. He sipped his tea more cautiously than Liam, long fingers wrapped around the mug, leeching its warmth. "Yeah, they are. Do you remember what's it like to enjoy giving a blow job?"  
  
Liam frowned. "I still enjoy it."  
  
Harry looked up at that, surprised enough that it showed in his face, he couldn't tuck it away. "Really? You have fun doing all that?"  
  
"No, not that," Liam said. "I mean, maybe once in awhile, if you manage to pull a fit bloke who doesn't have porno ideas of slapping you with his dick and pulling you down by the ears, but not usually. But I still like blowing people I _want_. Don't you?"  
  
Harry was quiet for a long moment, just staring at his tea. Eventually he said, in a soft voice, "I can't remember the last time I sucked off a bloke just for fun. Without being paid."  
  
"Really?" Liam asked, shocked.  
  
"I can't even remember the last time someone sucked _me_ off without paying me," Harry continued.  
  
Liam set his mug down on the coffee table, perhaps too loudly, because Harry glanced up. "Harry," Liam said seriously, "I'd really like to blow you."  
  
Harry laughed, high and startled. "Thanks, Li, but I'm all right. I wasn't, like, fishing for a pity blow job."  
  
"I didn't think you were," Liam said. "That's not why."  
  
"Then why?" Harry asked, voice tight with suspicion, although he didn't move when Liam slid to the floor and crowded up between his legs.  
  
"Because I want to," Liam said. "Because you're fit, and you won't pull my ears." He lifted his brows at Harry, and Harry shook his head 'no'. "Because it's supposed to be fun, and we shouldn't forget that."  
  
"You don't have to suck me to teach me a life lesson or remind me there's still joy in the world, Liam," Harry snipped, heavy with sarcasm, but his gaze was fixed to Liam's already swollen mouth, and when Liam put a hand over his crotch he pulsed his hips up, half-hard.  
  
"Help remind me, then," Liam told him, opening his flies and tugging his boxers down enough to free Harry's dick.  
  
"Liam–"  
  
"Christ, Harry, just shut up and let me suck your cock," Liam murmured, leaning down to take him in, but Harry's hand on his forehead stopped him.  
  
"Wait," Harry breathed, and Liam almost cried, but Harry continued, "not like this. Get my trousers off, at least. Please."  
  
It did something to Liam's stomach, that _please_ , a feeling like the one he'd had when he was waiting for Harry at the bar and the minutes kept ticking by, but pulled in the opposite direction–a nervous squirm of anticipation rather than worry. He pulled Harry's legs straight and worked the impossibly tight denim down them, leaving his jeans and pants and socks in a messy pile. He put his hands on Harry's thighs, warm in the chill flat, and looked up at him for approval.  
  
"Yeah, better," Harry said softly. "Just, just go slow, yeah? Just do what you want, only what you want." His hand came up, hovering for a hesitant second in the air, then settled lightly on the back of Liam's neck.  
  
"You too, only what you want," Liam mumbled, earnest but distracted, already leaning down to smear a kiss across the head of Harry's cock. He felt the muscles beneath his hands tense, heard Harry's sharp breath in, and he went back for another kiss, a slow lick, something hot coiling in his stomach at the gasps that Harry made. Liam had always loved this, before tricking, and he still did now with the boys he bedded for fun, but there was something about sucking _Harry_ that was ten times hotter than he'd ever imagined. And he'd imagined it before.  
  
"God, your–" Harry whispered as Liam opened his mouth to take in the head. His voice abruptly cut off, and when Liam rolled his eyes up to sneak a look at him Harry had his free hand at his mouth, thumb between his teeth.  
  
"Hey, stop that," Liam reprimanded, pulling off and making Harry whine in protest. He reached up, gently tugging Harry's hand from his mouth. "I want to hear you."  
  
"I don't–I don't want to say something stupid and cliché," Harry admitted. His fingers sifted through Liam's hair, tightening minutely when Liam took the head of his cock back in, then relaxing again. "I don't want to say the stupid things they do, going on about how good your mouth looks on their dicks, how you take it so well. How much of a slut you are for it, you can't get enough, can't–can't–"  
  
Liam shook his head, but didn't pull away this time, working his mouth down farther with slow bobs until Harry's cock was touching the back of his throat. Harry was making small, desperate sounds, half sounded like he was crying but Liam didn't look, didn't stop the slick work of his mouth, so full and warm and heavy with the taste of Harry. He swallowed carefully and Harry made a choked noise, hand falling away from Liam's hair, and without a thought Liam reached out desperately for it, lacing their fingers together.  
  
"Liam," Harry moaned, pained. "Li, fuck, you're so pretty, you're so so pretty, you're beautiful." Liam groaned encouragement, wrapping his free hand firmly around the inch his mouth didn't reach and moving them together, quick and purposeful now. Harry's hand tightened around his, clinging. "You're so beautiful, Liam, you're going to make me come. Can I, please? Can I come, Liam?"  
  
Liam didn't miss the careful question, or the way Harry kept saying his name. Most men didn't ask for his name, and if they did, he made one up. He wasn't afraid of them finding him or getting into trouble. He just didn't want to hear his name in their mouths, didn't want to hear them groan 'Liam, Liam' like they were his boyfriend or something. Like they knew him.  
  
Harry knew him.  
  
"Yes," Liam gasped, pulling back, still working Harry with his slick fist. "God, yes, I want you to come, I want to taste you, Harry. Come for me."  
  
He twisted his wrist sharply, the circle of his fingers tight and quick, and got his mouth down in time to catch the first pulse of come across his tongue. It didn't taste much better than any other man's come he'd had in his mouth, that thin, bleachy smell, but it was Harry coming, coming because Liam had made him feel so good, because he wanted this, and that made it so stupidly hot. He slipped his mouth off to swallow, licking at the weak little dribbles that leaked out with the aftershocks until Harry whimpered and pulled at his hand.  
  
"Okay, okay," Liam soothed, pressing a last chaste kiss to Harry's hip before rising from his knees. He took a moment to shuck his jeans, now uncomfortably tight, before settling down next to Harry on the couch once more.  
  
Harry was a vision, a fucked-out mess sagged deep into the couch, hair sweaty and cheeks flushed pink. His shirt was rucked up and his cock lay soft and still heavy with blood in the crease of his thigh. He rolled his head toward Liam, and one of the scratches around his mouth had pulled open and left a tacky dark red spot of blood. Liam wanted, very suddenly and with his whole being, to kiss him.  
  
"All right?" he asked instead.  
  
Harry nodded tiredly, flashed a smile. "Yeah, good." He rubbed slowly at his face, reached down and fished his boxers out of the mess of clothes and pulled them on. Then he looked at Liam and his brows drew down and in. "Heeeey," he said slowly. "You swallowed it. I was gonna ask you to spit it back into my mouth."  
  
Liam's laugh caught him so much by surprise he snorted, and Harry's face lit up at the sound. "Wanker," Liam said, smacking the back of his hand into Harry's chest, and then sort of just leaving it there. "And after I was just so nice to you."  
  
"For free, no less," Harry agreed. He opened his arms, and Liam moved into them for a cuddle. "I suppose I owe you now."  
  
"You don't," Liam said seriously. He was hard, but it didn't feel urgent, like he needed to do something about it. He wanted to stay here, curled up warm against Harry while the rain poured down outside. "You don't owe me anything."  
  
But Harry just smiled. "I know," he said. He moved under Liam's arms, settling in a little more comfortably. His voice was getting lazier, the rhythm of his breathing slowing down as the night and the late hour rested on them. "Can we sleep like this tonight?" he asked Liam. "I don't want to get up and unfold the sofa bed."  
  
Liam nodded. "Yes," he said, giving in to the urge to kiss Harry–not like he wanted, pressed against full, soft lips, but under his eye, a tiny butterfly-light kiss to the thin skin just beginning to bruise. "Yeah, we can stay like this tonight."


End file.
